Page 123 of Blood of Olympus

“Meloidians are our healers. Most remain behind the line of fire, tending to our wounded, fixing what they can. Only the bravest among them volunteer for more — becoming field healers — running from warrior to warrior injured in conflict, unable to retreat or be dragged back.

“Cytherons are the cleverest, though. Queen Idalia sends her conscripts directly from their jail cells. Anyone who breaks their laws will find themselves behind bars until such time as the next conscription date rolls around. Then, they can earn their freedom by serving under our command. They never send actual Cytherons, however, because the only ones foolish enough to break their laws are those who aren’t born there.” He barked a sharp laugh. “We even get our own men sent back to us more often than not.”

“How does that happen?” Aros asked, astounded.

Arius laughed again. “Warriors fresh off the battlefield experiencing bloodlust, plus enough alcohol to drown an oxen, plus entire brothels of beautiful women willing to sate that desire just a short swim away?” He paused, brows raised, waiting for us to work it out. “Doesn’t equate to clear heads and measured decisions. Add in a dash of the goddess Aphrodite’s influence, and we’re all the more foolish a gender.”

Aros chuckled, as did I. Even Erato and Diana cracked a smile.

“They’re big on consent over there — which is important, I’ll admit,” he tacked on quickly, noticing both the goddesses glaring at him. “But a drunken warrior has been known to steal a kiss too many, or slap the wrong ass in passing. Both of which will get you locked up quicker than you can say ‘it was just a joke’.”

The women rolled their eyes and I was inclined to agree. To men, desire tended to slip into entitlement the moment they decided it should. Too often, their victims were expected to take it like a blessing, instead of the violation it really was.

“What about the Kardians?” Aros inquired.

“Kardians we keep safe wherever possible. Only their teenagers are able to be conscripted. Those who are not yet mothers, not pledged to work in other kingdoms, and no longer children themselves.

“Some never do anything more than menial tasks to keep the ‘hold running — and before you judge, know that they will never see the frontlines, never see bloodshed, take a life, or witness their best friend die before their eyes.” The king’s own glazed over, looking but not really seeing. A moment later, he cleared his throat and continued, “But others excel. Some are born with a fire that simmers their whole lives until they're given the opportunity to burn. They are fierce. Brave. Particularly the women.”

“Hestia would be so pleased to hear it.” Erato grinned.

King Arius frowned. “Tell me, demi-god — who exactly do you think blesses them to burn so brightly?”

“Huh,” was all she said in return, a crease forming between her eyes.

A small smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth, watching her mind expand to house the possibility that Hestia was so much more than she seemed.

Truthfully, it had given me pause as well.

“In any case, Ignios awaits.” Arius turned on his heel and marched along the road with the air of a man who had places to be but was in no great rush to get there.

The further into the village we walked, the more it looked like people actually lived there. Their populations must be dwindling indeed for only the central rings of homes to be occupied.

Arius stopped to greet a pair of children who’d taken one look out their front window then bolted out of their house to throw themselves around his legs. The sound of glee followed, both their cheeks dimpling in a way that struck oddly at my heart.

Is this what it could have been like to grow up with Charon? As a brother, and not as strangers?

I could barely stomach the thought and had to turn away from their apparent joy.

Aros nudged my shoulder with his own. “You alright?”

I nodded, swallowing around the unexpected lump of emotion. “Fine. It’s just…”

Aros followed my gaze to the pair now winding in and around King Arius’ legs even as their mother tried to pry them free. He nodded, smiling despite his best efforts not to. “I get it,” he said, uncharacteristically gentle. “You were robbed of the chance to experience a childhood like this. But even though I, with all my wisdom and devastatingly good looks, are a mere five hundred or so years older, I still consider you a brother, Caelus. You’re not alone.” He tapped a finger against my sternum. “Never again will you truly be alone,” he laughed.

I huffed a laugh. “True enough. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I felt the smile drip slowly off my face. “I just can’t help but wonder what could have been.”

He cocked his head, considering. “That’s for the Fates to know, not us.”

“Coming?” Arius called with one quirked ginger brow. He did not wait for our answer, instead turned and kept walking all the way to the centre of Ignios. His people came out of their houses one by one, and followed our curious party to the fountain that lay in the heart of the village.

Diamond-shaped and in disrepair, the fountain boasted a limestone boar. The beast’s mouth was agape in an eternal roar, water trickling sadly from the ends of his bronze-plated tusks. Stagnant water meandered around the base where he stood, algae milling about the corners.

Aros took one look at the structure and frowned.

“Is that…?”

Arius glanced between him and the statue, nodding with fervor when he understood. “It is.”